


The Gold Motel: Written Letters

by mrgoldsdearie



Series: The Gold Motel [16]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:03:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrgoldsdearie/pseuds/mrgoldsdearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle AU inspired by the movie Psycho - Norman and Robert each receive a hand written letter from the woman they love. Robert attends his first therapy session with Dr. Merlin. Belle gets a gift in the mail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gold Motel: Written Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to add more to this chapter, but it didn't feel right to go on. The feeling I was going for here would have completely been lost and the pace would have changed. So less is actually more here. I think. I hope all who read it enjoy. I think this was one of my favorites to write. Happy reading.

 

> _To Norman, my loving husband._
> 
> _Hey, sweetie. I hope you’re doing well at the time you read this. It feels a little strange writing a letter to you. We've never done this before, but I wanted to send you something too since I was writing to Robert. I would never have guessed that he didn't like talking on the phone, but I know you already knew that._
> 
> _Anyways, our letters won't be about him. I just wanted to make that clear. My letters to you are only for us and the relationship we have with each other._
> 
> _Baelee can stand on her own now and she’s starting to take steps. It's amazing to see her trying to walk. Her little body wobbles back and forth, and when she loses her balance, she plops down to the floor. It's so cute and I can't wait for you to see it when we visit you._
> 
> _I know I told you this, but she really adores your black and white checkered shirt. I think it's becoming her security blanket and she wants it every time she sleeps. She misses you terribly and I think this is just a sign of how much._
> 
> _I miss you too._
> 
> _I miss your handsome face being the first thing I see in the morning. I miss your scent after a warm shower. I miss your cooking. And I also miss the way you open the motel sign in book to any page for the customers to sign. If it wasn't for the dates, I wouldn't be able to organize it every month._
> 
> _I miss your body laying next to me every night. I miss your warm breath during a tender kiss. I miss the way you touch me. You've touched every part of me. Explored my body many, many times and you always make it feel like it's the first. Every taste from my lips feels like a first taste to you and you savor every single one._
> 
> _I miss all this and more._
> 
> _I know that I haven't been the best wife to you. I didn't tell you about the things you've done when you wasn't yourself. I've keep unbelievably dark things that I've done from you. I've lied to you, I've broken your heart and yet you've forgiven me. Sometimes I don't think I deserve your forgiveness, but most times, I cherish that you do. It just proves how strong your love for me genuinely is. And I hope that you see that my love for you is just as strong._
> 
> _I know you're working hard to get home. This is a long and difficult process for us all, but I want you to know that I believe in you. I know we can all live happily together and I await that day with great hope._
> 
> _I love you, Norman Gold, and I'll see you in a few days._
> 
> _-Your wife, Belle._

Norman Gold lays on his back in the bed of his room at the Storybrooke Mental Hospital. He reads the words from his wife under the light of the moon shining in the window. It's the hundredth time his eyes has scanned over the letter since receiving it this morning. He didn't expect to see her exquisite handwriting today. Or smell the aroma of her favorite perfume that she spritzed on the letter just for him. It was a lovely surprise; the best thing to happen to him behind these hospital walls. He'll cherish her letter for the rest of his life.

He gently folds the letter and places it back into the envelope. Then stores it safely in his nightstand next to his neatly folded shirts. He then lays back down on his back and closes his eyes. Her words play in his mind over and over again.

_I miss your body laying next to me every night._

Norman rubs his hands over his chest, mimicking the delicate touch of his wife.

_I miss your warm breath during a tender kiss._

He pinches his nipple through his white button down pajama shirt. They stiffen with the twisting of his fingers. “Ah….”, Norman moans softly, keeping his cries of self-pleasure hushed.

_I miss the way you touch me. You've touched every part of me. Explored my body many, many times and you always make it feel like it's the first._

He slides his hand under the blue cotton blanket and massages the front of his pants. His heart rate increases as the blood in his body rush to thicken his slowly swelling cock.

_Every taste from my lips feels like a first taste to you and you savor every single one._

Norman has not had sex with Belle in weeks. He yearned for her but never touched her. Given everything that has happened between them, being intimate with each other didn't feel right. His mind drifts to the day he returned after leaving her with Robert. It was the last time they were sexually intimate.

He thinks about that night he was lying next to Belle, hand between her legs, fingers in her cunt. She was warm and saturated to his gentle touch.

“Ungh….”, he groans faintly, looking over to his roommate’s bed. Making sure he's still asleep in his medicated slumber. Norman then turns away and closes his eyes. And he returns his thoughts to that kindling night.

Norman’s desire for Belle was inflamed that night as he dry humped his wife, fully clothed, from behind. His stiffness brushing up against her ass was all he needed for the intense release of creamy seed in his pants.

The memories and the tender kneading of his hand against his bulge have brought Norman’s manhood to full erection. He spits in his palm as a bit of lubrication and slips his hand inside his hospital issued pajama pants.

His breathing quickens as he gently strokes himself from hilt to tip, mixing his pre-cum with saliva on his member.  “Uh….” His body trembles when he adds a bit of pressure on himself, as he imagines thrusting within his wife's slick pedals. “Uh….”, he groans silently again, fighting off the urge to cry out louder.

He quickens the rhythm of his right hand, slipping his left down into his pants and stimulates his balls. “Mmm.…” His body stiffens as every inch of him floods with warm. He closes his eyes tighter and he dips his head back into the pillow underneath him. His heavy balls tremble to his own touch, imagining his wife’s petite hand constricting around them. “Mmm….”, he hums again in quiet ecstasy.

Norman's toes curl as an undeniable pulsation develops at the base of his shaft, signaling his orgasmic release. He clenches his jaw and his hips slightly jerk as his cock erupts forcefully in his pants, expelling thick milky white gobs of cum. “Fuck….”, he murmurs.

He lays breathing heavily with both hands in his pants, body lightly pulsing. He thinks about his wife and what she might say after cumming so quickly.

_“It's okay, Norman, you catch your breath. When you're ready to go again, you can have some more.”_

He turns over in the bed and faces the wall. He thought pleasuring himself would help with the loneliness he feels away from Belle. But it only made it worse. He needs the comfort of his wife's warm arms wrapped securely around him and the taste of her moist lips against his own. But unfortunately, he won't experience these sensations until Friday’s visiting day.

Alone, heartbroken, and sticky with cum, Norman lays in his bed silently crying himself to sleep.

##  **\-----**

The next morning, Robert Gold awakes in a soiled mess. He hasn't woken up in such a splotchy state in years. Normally, Norman washes after a lonely round with his hand. Robert thinks he must have had a bad night and hit the height of missing his family.

Robert sighs and stands from the bed in his sticky nightwear. He shuffles to the shower before the nurses start handing out the morning medications.

Hours pass and lunch is served in the cafeteria. Robert doesn't know what’s on the menu today and he doesn't quite care. He sits, staring longingly at his unopened letter from Belle. Tracing his fingers around her name, frightened of the words inside.

“Robert?”, Jefferson says, sitting across the table indulging in a turkey pot pie. “How's Norman today? I didn't see him this morning. He's usually the one that wakes up.”

“He's fine,” Robert lies, slipping the letter into his breast pocket. Being without his family, Robert knows that Norman is feeling a bit down. “He probably didn't want to deal with your shit today,” he lies again, scratching his bearded face.

“My shit?”, Jefferson replies miffed, dropping his fork on the tray. He thought he and Norman were getting along. He talks to him a lot more than Robert after all.

“I'm not, Norman. I didn't stutter.”

“What shit do I do that he would be sick of?”

“Well…. You talk over movies and he hates that.” This time, Robert tells the absolute truth. Norman doesn't enjoy watching a movie and being yapped at the every time.

Jefferson's brow raises in utter surprise. “He's never said anything.”

“Sometimes, he's just too damn polite.” Robert stands from his seat and takes his cane from the table.  “But I'm not….” He leans over the table with a twitch in his upper lip. “Stop talking over the fucking movies,” he bellows in a low tone through his uneven teeth. Doesn’t want to attract any attention from the orderlies. He circles away and limps to the exit, heading to his first therapy session with Dr. Merlin.

##  **\-----**

In Dr. Merlin’s second story office, Robert Gold sits on the black leather couch, wanting nothing more than to stand up and leave. But he doesn't go. He remained in his seat. Going through something as unnerving as this is how he will get back home to Belle.

“How are you today, Robert?”, the doctor asks from his comfortable desk chair.

Robert gazes at the doctor, crossing his right leg over the left. “Is this how you're going to start all these things?”

“Well, it is polite to ask someone how their feeling. Especially if the person asking cares.”

“I still don't think you care, doctor.”

“Why do you think that?” Merlin asks and scribbles down a few notes in a book.

“Are you taking notes?”, he questions. Robert never appreciated when Dr. Hopper would stop to write something down in his book. It only made Robert build a thicker wall between him and therapy.

“Yes, I am. If it makes you feel uncomfortable, I'll stop.”

“It makes you look suspicious,” he says hoarsely.

“Very well.” The doctor closes the notebook and rests his blue pen on the desk. “I won't write during our sessions.”

“Good.”

“So what made you think I didn't mean it when I asked you how you were?”

“Because everyone asks how someone is doing, even if they don't care.”

“Well, that's not true, Robert.”

Robert looks away from the doctor and admires the view of Storybrooke from the window. If the office was on the other side of the building, he could probably see the house from where he sits. “I know it isn't,” he eventually replies.

“Why did you change your mind?”

“Because I know Belle isn't like that. When she asks about someone; she does care.”

“Belle…. That's Norman's wife,” the doctor smiles kindly. “Who is she to you?”

Robert turns back to the doctor with a cynical grimace. “I don't want to talk about, Belle.”

“That's okay.” He folds his hands on the desk. “You can talk about anything you like. Nothing you say will leave this room.”

“I know you doctors like to say that, but that's not necessarily true.”

“It is true, Robert.”

“No, it isn’t.” He rests the tip of his cane on the floor, slowly spinning it with his right hand. “If someone were to confess unspeakable acts that they've done.” He watches the cane spin. “You'd have to report it.”

“Well, yes, I do,” Dr. Merlin answers. “I could lose my license if I didn't.”

“So you see what I mean when I say it isn't true.” He leers up at the doctor, still spinning the cane. “Someone can't truly say anything they wish and it would stay here.”

“It isn't true if you're planning on confessing to a crime,” Merlin states, sitting up straight in his chair. “You're not doing that, are you?”

“Of course not,” Robert grumbled.

“Then we shouldn't have any troubles with that bit.”

“I just wanted to point out that when you say ‘everything stays here’.” He takes the shaft of the cane and slams it down on the empty seat of the leather couch. “That it's just a lie,” he snarls.

Merlin slightly finches to the thundering sound of cane smacking leather but manages to stay composed. He recognizes Robert attempt at intimidation. Many patients go through different stages before trust can be built. “When you put it that way, Robert, I suppose it is. But I promise everything you say goes nowhere but here.”  

Robert takes a deep breath and sits back on the couch. “Okay, doctor.”

“So does this mean you're going to start trusting me?”

“No…. Not yet,” Robert snickers with a sinister grin. “I don't trust you as far as I can toss my cane.”

“That's okay. This is only our first session. It's understandable that you don't trust me.” He stands from his chair and rolls it around the desk to sit closer to Robert. “So, what do you really want to talk about?” The doctor retakes his seat across from his patient, folding his hands in his lap. “You have your guard on high alert and I can understand that. But I do greatly want to get to know the real you.”  

“You want to get to know the real me?” He leans in forward, leering coldly at the doctor. “You couldn't live with the dark things inside me.”

“Everyone has a bit of darkness in them. Some more than others. But whatever darkness is weighing you down, I'll try my best to help lift you from it.”

Robert sits back, remaining silent.

“Let's do something, Robert,” the doctor breaks the brief silence between them. “You tell me one thing that I can help you with. Something you think can be done in a day or so and I'll try by best to do it. And if I'm able to help, you'll know that you can trust me.”

Robert crosses his arms and gazes out the window again. He thinks about his son and how he didn't wake up today. “Help me with Norman,” he mutters.

“I'm already helping Norman and doing that is going to take a lot more time than a day.”

“That's not what I mean,” he snaps, quickly turning back to face him. “Norman's upset. He didn't wake up today. He misses his family and every day he's away from them he deteriorates.” He hates knowing that Norman is in such a dismal state. “That sets us back from getting home. Norman can not have days when he doesn't wake. He needs something to look forward to. He needs a distraction that's not just waiting to see his family. I need you to help me find it.”

Merlin sits back in the chair, crossing his left leg over the right. “A distraction, huh?” Thinks for a moment. This is something he might be able to accomplish. “What does Norman like to do?”

“He has a hobby of restoring antiques, but he hasn't done anything since becoming a father. He's very good at it and he loves it. I think if he's able to work on something, he'll feel better and we won't have days like today.”

“Ummm…. You know…. There used to be an art program here, but it was cut…. I think I can do this. Yes,” Dr. Merlin nods. “I think I can help you,” he says pleased. He'll do anything in his power to help build the trust that desperately needed between patient and doctor.  

“Good. You get right on that.”

“I will,” he replies with a compassionate grin. “But can you tell me one thing?”

“What?”

The doctor uses this moment of understanding between them to try to learn something a little more personal about Robert. “Norman has a hobby, but what about you?”

Robert can tell by his response that he's going to do all that he can to help him with Norman. He decides to answer Merlin’s question to show the doctor that he's willing to work on building trust too. “I don't have one, but I used to.”

“If you don't mind telling me, I’d like to know what it was.”

He gazes out of the window yet again, watching the trees throughout Storybrooke slowly sway with the wind. It is a beautiful view of the town and now he understands why Norman adores this office. “I use to spin,” he finally confesses to something only his son knew he's ever done.

“Spin?”, the doctor asks, seeking to understand what he means.

“Yes, on a spinning wheel.”

“Oh….” Merlin's eyes widen. “Like spinning threads or yarn from something like sheep's wool or cotton?”

“Yes, something like that.”

“Interesting hobby,” Dr. Merlin says, intrigued.

“It was just something I did,” Robert shrugs. “After Malcolm left Norman for good, we didn't have much money. Norman was fifteen, but still growing.” He takes hold of his cane and grips the shaft tightly, thinking of how precious and fragile Norman was at the time.

Norman's heart, mind, and innocence were just shattered by a man he used to call his father. All the damage was done, Malcolm was dead, and there was nothing Robert could do to change it.

“He was such a skinny boy,” Robert chuckles to himself. “I had to repurpose his old clothes.”

Robert found the old spinning wheel, and a large burlap sack of wool, stuffed in the shed behind the house. The shed was, and still is, full of decades of clutter left behind by previous owners of the house and motel.

“Really? Who taught you to do that?”, the doctor questions.

“On one of the many times that bastard Malcolm abandoned Norman, he left him with a couple of spinster sisters in Scotland. I guess I remember it from that.” By Robert being the father, he was the one who took up the trait to take care of his son.

With Robert speaking a little about the hobby he used to have, Dr. Merlin can understand more of the relationship between Robert and Norman. How Norman was always the child and Robert the father.  Their bond with each other is genuinely real.

The doctor asks another question, hoping that Robert doesn't shut down. “What made you stop spinning?”

Robert lays the cane flat on his lap, rolling it back and forth over his leg, mimicking the spinning motion of the threads he used to watch every day at his wheel. “It got to a point when I only spun to help me forget.”

“Forget what?”

“That doesn't matter.” He stops rolling the cane and rests it beside him on the couch. “But I didn't want to forget it anymore, so I got rid of the wheel.”

Spinning at the wheel helped Robert forget about his failure to protect Norman and not getting him away from Malcolm before Norman completely lost himself. Walking with the cane and limp is Robert’s daily reminder of that fated night. Spinning at the wheel was his freedom from it. But Robert didn't think he deserved to forget his negligences.

“Would you ever spin again?”, the doctor asks.

“No,” Robert swiftly answers. He ever wants to touch another spinning wheel again.

Dr. Merlin nods pleased with the small step they've taken together. “Thank you, Robert.”

“For what?”

“For showing me a bit of yourself.”  Merlin stands from his chair. “I'm going to look into what I can do about that old art studio, right now.” He steps to his desk and picks up the cordless phone, then presses the numbers on the dial.

At the end of the session, Dr. Merlin was able to keep his word. He acquired the permission needed to allow Norman to do some work in the old art studio. And now that he was able to show Robert that he's someone who can be trustworthy, he's hoping that their therapy sessions will progress as their time together goes on.

When the session ends, Robert is strangely uplifted after talking a bit about the past. After living in a prison of self-guilt for so long, he can now see that being in the hospital might be the way to clear the dark cloud hovering over him, Belle, and Norman. He knows that today's session was just a small step, but it's another small step closer to home.

##  **\-----**

After therapy, Robert returns to their bedroom and thankfully he's alone. He now has the courage to read his letter from Belle and hopes that it can give him the strength to wake Norman from the dark place he's hiding.

Robert sits on the bed and carefully removes the letter from his breast pocket. He's smelled the intoxicating perfume Belle had sprayed on the paper all day. It's an aroma that has instantly become his favorite. He's heart thumps in his narrow chest as he unfolds the letter. Belle has the most beautiful handwriting.

 

 

> _To Robert, my caring boyfriend._
> 
> _Hey, you. I hope you're doing well when you read this. I'm doing okay myself as I'm writing. I only say okay because I miss you and Norman terribly. But my letters to you won't be about him. They're for us and about us._
> 
> _I know that opening was odd, me calling you my boyfriend, but no other word fit. I guess that's what you are, isn't it? I care about you the same way I care about my husband. Since I'm not married to you, your title is obviously different._
> 
> _I don't know. This sounds kinda weird. Or maybe I'm just being silly. I just hope you weren't put off by it._
> 
> _Anyway…. Neal and I have been getting along nicely. He and his family are a joy to be around. I told him that things between you and I have kind of shifted. He gazed at me with the most compassionate look and said ‘I understand’, then left it at that. I didn't know what to expect when I told him. I guess I was looking for a more surprised reaction, but he just looked as though it was all meant to be between us. And you know, I was quite relieved. Even though you didn't raise this son, he turned out to be an incredible man. I’m still a little nervous about him seeing us together. But I have a feeling that will change once I'm in the same room with you._
> 
> _You are and incredible man as well._
> 
> _I know that we've had our differences with each other and things were truly ugly. But I want you to understand that most of that is in the past. I say most because some things are unforgettable. Especially with some of the things you've done to me, but this doesn't mean that I don't worry about you or care any less about you. You were very damaged and ill. You are not that man anymore. You're trying to be better for yourself and Norman. Which is very important. I can see the changes in you and it makes me so proud of you._
> 
> _I miss you._
> 
> _I miss your sweet kiss and the way your lips taste so different when you are you. I miss your touch when you are you. And I await another day when I wake up next to you and you’re the first face I see._
> 
> _I know that therapy isn't easy for you, but I believe that you can do it. I believe that you can let down some of your walls and allow someone to finally help you._
> 
> _I care about you so much, Robert Gold, and I can't wait to see you on Friday._
> 
> _-Your sweetheart, Belle_

Having just read the most beautiful words, Robert Gold stares at the letter misty eyed and breathing heavily. There were so many things she wrote that made his heart jump. But the one thing that nearly put him into cardiac arrest was the word _boyfriend_. This simple nine letter word has just changed Robert's life. He had inadvertently called Belle his girlfriend in front of Mel and her two stooges, but he never anticipated to read that she thought of him as the same. The feeling he received from reading that word was like the most incredible orgasm to have ever swept across his body. It was more intense than wrapping his bare hands around Mr. Jones’ neck and watching the life drain from his eyes.

“I'm her boyfriend,” he mutters and lays down in the bed with the open letter next to him. Thinking of that word over and over again. “I'm her boyfriend,” he whispers. He closes his eyes and submerges himself in this world where he's Belle Gold’s boyfriend. It's such a beautiful new world and he sees so much light in it. He remains in this nirvana for several more moments, then slowly pulls himself out of his blissful state and gains the strength to reach out to wake his son.

Robert sits up and folds her letter back into its envelope, then slips it into his breast pocket. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, trying to concentrate only on Norman.

“There you are,” Robert says, opening his eyes. “I knew I would find you.”

He lays down in the bed on his right side, clutching tightly to a pillow. “I was n-n-never hiding from you,” Norman Gold whimpers.

Robert sits up and gently pats the pillow as if he’s was soothing his eldest son. “I knew you weren't. That’s why I didn't bother you, but you have to wake up now.”

“Why?...” He slowly turns his head towards the door. “It's n-n-not Friday,” he stutters.

“I know that, son.” Robert gazes down upon the pillow. “But you can't hide. We have to both be here every day. We have to learn to live together without hurting each other and we can't do that if one of us isn't here.”

Norman lays down on his side, holding back the tears burning in his eyes. “I miss my family.”

“I know you do.” Robert turns on his back, wiping his eyes. “I miss them too, but we both have to be out here missing them together. Not hiding inside.”

“I d-d-don't know what to do with myself most d-d-days.”

“I know that too.” Robert sits up on the edge of the bed. “But I have something to help you with that.”

“How c-c-could you possibly have something to help me?”

“I went to therapy today. I talked to Dr. Merlin.”

Norman squints, tilting his head to the left. “You went to therapy?”, mumbled in disbelief.

“Yes,” he nods. “You didn't believe I would actually go, did you?”

“No, I th-th-thought I’d have to d-d-drag you through the door.”

“Sorry, I took the fun out of it for you.”

A faint smile curls on Norman's face and he laughs breathily in the back of his throat.

How could his Papa make him laugh? He wasn't in the mood for laughter.

“So h-h-how was your first session?”, Norman asks, stubbled face still slightly glowing from the chuckle.

“It went as expected.”

“It was th-th-that bad?”

“No, I got everything I wanted out of it. I got want I needed to help you while we're here away from our family.”

“What d-d-did you get?”

Robert scoots to the right, facing the head of the bed. He slowly leans forwards and whispers as if he was next to Norman's ear. “I got you a workshop.”

Norman's eyes widen and instantly sits up straight. “A workshop?”

“Yes, son,” he whispers with a smile, imagines seeing the awe on Norman's face. “There's an old art studio in the north wing of the hospital. Dr. Merlin made the arrangements for you to work there an hour and a half every day.”

“Work on what?”

“Your hobby, son, your antiques.”

Norman inches to the left and rests his hand in his lap, taking a moment to let Robert's words set in. “The old art studio probably d-d-doesn't have everything I need to work on any-anything.”

“I've seen the workshop, Norman. It doesn't have everything you need, but it has a few. Enough for you to work on something small and anything else you need you could have Belle bring from home”

“B-b-but what’s small that I can work on now?”

“I have something.” Robert stands and opens the bottom drawer of their nightstand, which is reserved for him. He takes out an old oak wood, five-inch-long, box. He rests the box on the bed, as if he's placing it gently on his son’s lap, and takes a step back. “You can work on that.” Points to the box.

When Robert and Belle packed the car with the suitcases the day Norman checked himself into the hospital, Robert slipped the oak box, that used to sit on their fireplace mantle, into one of the bags. He wanted to have the box just in case he would need a place of his own to store his personal items. With the way things have been rocky between him and Norman, he didn't expect Norman to let him have his own space in their hospital room. So he needed to make sure that he’d have one.

“Th-th-this is yours, Papa.” Norman sits on the bed and picks up the box, gazing at it curiously from all angles. “You would n-n-never let me touch it to do any work on it when I asked. You said you liked it th-th-the way it was.”

“I know and I still do like it, but I think you can make it better. I also think you should give it as a gift to Belle. She can keep the letters from us in it.”

“You w-w-want me to work on your old box, th-th-then give it to my wife so she can keep th-th-the letters we write to her in it?”, Norman asks. He never thought there would be a day when his Papa would actually let him work on the box or give it away as a gift. He can truly see the changes in his old Pop. Every small step they take together brightens  their path back home. And though he hasn't fully come to terms with Robert’s relationship with his wife, he can start to see how it can be good for everyone.

“Yes, I was hoping you'd like the idea,” Robert says.

“I do like it,” Norman grins. He believes it’s a great way for Belle to have something from both of them.

“Good, I'm happy you do…. I get to watch you work again. You know how much I enjoyed that.”

Robert is pleased to know that there's hope back in his son's heart. Norman now has something to keep I'm focused each day and not spending most of his time missing his family. Their treatment can now move on without loneliness holding them back.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“You’re welcome, son.”

##  **\-----**

_[Two days later]_

Friday morning, Belle is in her bedroom drying off Baelee from her bath with her soft teddy bear bath towel. She lotions the child’s smooth skin, wraps a fresh diaper around her and puts her into the yellow flower dress that Norman adores. The same dress she had put her in last Saturday when their visit to the hospital was canceled.

Belle steps downstairs and her nose is kissed with the savory aroma of breakfast cooking in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Belle,” Neal says, gliding past the staircase buttoning his fuschia shirt.

“Good morning,” Belle replies with a smile. The house has been buzzing since Neal and his family came to visit and Belle loves every moment. “Would you mind taking Bae into the kitchen. I'm gonna go check the mail.”

“No problem.” He turns back, buttoning the bottom button on his shirt and take the baby from Belle's arms. “You look pretty today,” he kisses his baby sister's plump rosy cheek.

“I didn't know Emma was cooking breakfast, otherwise, I wouldn't have dressed her yet. She's a messy eater.”

“I've noticed,” he smirks. “Don't worry Belle. I'll make sure she stays clean. But I really can't make any promises. Emma does make the best breakfast tacos and Bae might not be able to keep her hands cleans,” he teases, bouncing the baby in his arms.

“Well if that happens we’ll be a little late to the hospital, but Norman and Robert wouldn't mind if it’s behind Bae playing with her food.”

“I know they wouldn't” he chuckles. “But I'll make sure she stays clean.”

“Thank you.” She kisses the baby girls head and paces to the front door. “I'll be right back.”

“Yep,” Neal replies and heads to the kitchen.

Outside, the morning sun rests in a cloudless sky and a cool breeze flows through Belle’s long chestnut curls. She ascends down the steps on the hill and stops at the black metal mailbox. She opens the little door, finding a signal package inside. Belle pulls out the ten-inch wide yellow envelope and can feel that the contents inside is a hard rectangular object. She reads who and where the package was sent from. The name in the top corner of the envelope reads Gold and the address is from the Storybrooke hospital.

Belle’s heart skips a beat and she gazes at the package with an overwhelming sense of joy sweeping over her. She knew she'd be receiving something soon, but she wouldn't have guessed a package like this.

Her hands tremble as she rips open the paper. Her jaw drops to the gravel driveway when she sees a five-inch long wooden box inside.

The box appears to be strangely familiar to Belle. She has a box just this size resting on her fireplace mantle. But with a blooming rose carved into the top and a shiny new coat of varnish covering the wood, Belle has never seen this box in her life. It's the most beautiful thing she's seen in a long time and she knows it's from her husband.

She opens the hinged top and she’s astounded once again to find that there are two letters resting inside. The front of the each sealed letter has her name written in two different handwritings and it suddenly dawns on her that the package was sent from both Robert and Norman.

“Oh my god,” Belle says, choked with emotion.

She slams the box shut, clutching it tightly as she dashes up to the house. She needs to read the letters in her bedroom.


End file.
